


Burned Out

by Hiiraeth (V_eritas)



Series: CritRole Collection [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Attempts at hurt/comfort from two emotionally constipated nerds, Because it's Beau, Blatant overuse of the F word, Blood, Empire Kids, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Past Abuse, Post-Episode 77, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-11-02 07:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_eritas/pseuds/Hiiraeth
Summary: “Look, I get it. You’ve had a long day,” Beau says. “Hell, you’ve had a really shitty day. You got stabbed by some psycho lady who reminds you of yourself and your shitty past, and there’s absolutely no way you’re okay right now.”She holds Caleb's gaze until he looks away. His jaw shifts and clenches a few times.“Like you are?” He retorts quietly. It’s not a question.--In the aftermath of episode 77, Beau and Caleb have a conversation about scourgers and the Cobalt Soul and try to comfort each other.





	Burned Out

**Author's Note:**

> My first CR post. Hello, critters! God, I love this show and these characters. Have my attempt at writing them.
> 
> Some BeauYasha and past Astrid/Bren. Episode 77 gave me feelings, man. This takes place directly after, post-stabbing-and-scrying.

There is still blood on Caleb’s coat when he returns from Essek’s with Jester. It runs from his throat down his chest, staining the fine fabric of his new undercoat, all the way to his trousers. Caleb gives the Nein a tight smile and walks off towards his room, shoulders drooping. He looks more like the man they met all those months ago than the Caleb they know today. 

Can a single day, a single person, set someone that far back?

Beau watches his back fade into the shadows and hopes Caleb is stronger than that.

She’s not the only one whose eyes follow Caleb all the way until his door closes. The creak of its hinges seems unnecessarily loud in the otherwise empty room. Jester has sunken down into a corner of the room, looking forlornly at the dried flower she once pressed into her notebook. Fjord is frowning at Caleb’s door. He meets Beau’s eyes and lets out a deep sigh. Nott fidgets with her necklace and avoids everyone's eyes.

“How about I go and make everyone some tea? It’s been a long day,” Caduceus says, in his usual warm rumble. He nods to himself when no one answers and shuffles off towards the kitchen.

Beau sighs. She doesn’t want to start this conversation. Today was a mess. No amount of tea is going to fix that.

Maybe she can fix one thing, though.

She remembers crisp Zemnian in a little cell and Caleb’s uncharacteristically confident voice, until the swish of metal in the dark. He didn’t say anything, afterwards, except that he had gotten information. Her jaw clenches. Today is not the fucking day for him to be keeping secrets.

Mind made up, she turns and stalks towards Caleb’s door. She pulls out the wrong book twice and curses until she finds the right one that levers open the door. Stupid secret fucking doors. Behind her, she hears Nott stand up and say her name, followed by Fjord’s darker rumble. Not doesn’t say anything else, so Beau figures Fjord approves.

Caleb is sitting on the edge of the bed, Frumpkin curled up at his side and his coat thrown haphazardly across the chair. A bowl of water tinged pink with blood sits next to him as he rubs a piece of cloth across his throat, just where the knife went in. He grimaces and pulls the stained cloth away. Only a thin pink line remains on his skin. A few inches higher, and it would have slit his throat completely.

Beau grits her teeth.

She feels stupid. She feels slow. She saw it coming, and yet…

She didn’t do a goddamn thing.

After Molly and Yasha, she knows anything is possible. Friends can die, or lose their minds and slaughter good people. Or, their continuous warnings that _the Cerberus assembly is fucking dangerous, Beau, I know you’re my friends but you don’t fucking know them, _are proven fucking true.

She didn’t save Molly. There is no saving Yasha.

She raps her knuckles across the doorpost. “Caleb,” she starts, and his head jerks up. He’s so far stuck in his own head he didn’t even notice the fucking door opening. It pisses her off. If anything, today has cemented that Trent Ikithon needs to die.

“Beauregard.” Caleb sounds a little startled, but at least he’s not hoarse anymore. He dabs at some of the blood on his chest. “Can I help you?”

_Can I help you_, like she’s the one who got stabbed in the throat by her abusive former teacher’s lackeys. She folds her arms over her chest and leans against the post. She looks down, clears her throat, looks back up. How the fuck does she start this conversation? Her frown deepens.

“What did you say to her?” Beau says, because she just has to be Like That, doesn’t she? She wants to take the words back, but it’s too late. His eyelids flicker and he looks away. Frumpkin meows and climbs into his lap. Caleb’s long fingers curl into the cat’s fur and don’t let go.

“To whom, Beauregard?” He asks, from somewhere underneath his fringe.

“You know who.”

“I have spoken to many people today –“

“Cut the bullshit,” she snaps. “The fucking scourger who _stabbed you in the throat_. You know, the reason you’re cleaning up blood right now?”

He flinches, then sighs. “Beauregard, I am very tired. I would very much like to go to sleep.”

He looks fucking exhausted. His skin is white as bone and his eyes, when he finally turns them on her, can hardly seem to stay open.

Still, she takes a step into the room and closes the door behind her. It’s cold inside, colder than it was in the hallway, which explains why Caleb has been hoarding blankets the past few weeks. His bed stands against one wall, and next to it is a mostly empty bookcase. Only one of its shelves actually holds books, but a quick glance tells her they have been ordered alphabetically and placed with great care. On the shelf underneath it she spots his ridiculous cat figurine collection. It’s the only shelf that hasn’t been dusted.

“Look, I get it. You’ve had a long day,” she says. “Hell, you’ve had a really shitty day. You got stabbed by some psycho lady who reminds you of yourself and your shitty past, and there’s absolutely no way you’re okay right now.”

She holds his gaze until he looks away. His jaw shifts and clenches a few times.

“Like you are?” He finally retorts. It’s not a question.

She nearly bites her tongue. That same fucking wave of emotion she’s been trying to repress all day crests again. Her throat aches and she has to fight not to cry. Has to fight to keep herself from wondering how many of the people she knew have been murdered by – by –

_Fuck_.

“I’m sorry about the Soul,” he offers quietly.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice thick. “Thanks.”

He gives her a lopsided smile. “So neither of us is okay,” he says.

She’s not sure why, but his words make the worst of her anger fade away. She sniffs and rubs at the tears in her eyes, then lets herself sink to the ground until she’s sitting against the door. Her forehead lands somewhere on her forearms. “Today fucking sucks,” she says to her knees.

She hears another deep sigh. “Ja. It does.”

They breathe together in the silence. If he can hear Beau’s breath catch, Caleb doesn’t mention it.

“We will do what we can to help them, you know,” he does say. He’s so tired that his accent catches on the consonants. “Once we get to Zadash.”

“But we’re not there _now_,” she says. “Not while they could actually use our help.”

“…Ja. That is true.”

She wants so badly to be there, with her brothers and sisters of the Cobalt Soul. For all her bluster she _cares_ for them and what they stand for. More than that, she wants so badly to grab Yasha and shake her until she comes back to her senses. None of it feels real.

Caleb clears his throat.

“… I asked the scourger about my friends,” he says. “Astrid and Eodwulf. I wanted to know if…. If there was still a chance to…”

She lifts her head from her knees just in time to see him shake his head.

“She told me they are alive,” he says. “I suppose that should delight me, but of course it also means…”

Today is such a bitter fucking day. “That they are still Trent’s,” Beau guesses.

He nods. Frumpkin meows again, and stands up against Caleb’s chest to nuzzle his face. Caleb indulges the cat, his hands framing the fey’s flanks to support him. “Ja. It means they are monsters.” 

He says it calmly, like he’s discussing the weather. Like he’s not talking about people who obviously meant the world to him. Like he didn’t _love_ Astrid.

“But it is not quite like with Yasha, you know?” He continues. “I mean, perhaps it is now, but Trent was only able to turn them into monsters because they let him. Magic doesn't make them do what he tells them to.”

He runs a feverish hand through his hair and then across his face. Frumpkin sinks back into his lap and turns to look at her, as though she knows what the hell to do.

“He abused you,” she begins.

“_Ja, Ja, I know_,” he cuts her off, batting a hand in her direction. “And he did worse to that woman in the cell. He did worse to my friends. So I wanted to see if I could change her mind. Break his… conditioning.”

He leans forward and sinks his face into his hands. His hair has come out of its usual ponytail and falls in wild curls around his fingers. “But there was no saving her. So there is no saving them.”

His voice cracks. He seems to sink even further in on himself, and Frumpkin has to climb out of his lap to avoid being crushed.

She wonders if this is what it will be like, years from now, if they never manage to save Yasha. If Yasha will become just another lost cause, just another person that they cannot save no matter how much they once loved –

No matter how much they love her.

_Fuck_, it hurts.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

He nods halfheartedly. He grabs Frumpkin again and puts him back into his lap to stroke his back.

Does he know how fucking obvious his tells are? Does _she_ know how obvious _hers_ are? Is she giving everything away about how she’s feeling? What she’s thinking? Without even meaning to?

“Fuck,” she says. She can hear Frumpkin purring from the other side of the room. Sure would be nice to have a pet of her own right about now, fucking Professor Thaddeus.

“Why did you come here, Beauregard?” Caleb asks.

“I told you. I wanted to know what you asked her.”

“Why? Do you not trust me to –”

“Fuck, man, it’s not about trust,” Beau snaps. “It’s about making sure you don’t start drinking again, like the last time you talked to her. Or, I don’t know, start spiraling out of control or something. You have a bad track record for that, too.”

He winces. “Ja, thank you for the reminder.”

“Fuck. Sorry.” Beau buries her face in her hands. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not all falling apart.”

There is a beat. “Are you falling apart, Beauregard?” Caleb asks softly.

Is she?

She probably should be.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I just know things are seriously messed up in the Empire right now and we’re just sitting here. Talking. Sleeping. _Having tea_.”

“Ah. Is Caduceus making some for everyone?”

“Oh, come on. _Yes_.” She looks up to glare at him and instead sees Frumpkin padding towards her. He looks soft and fluffy. His tail curls a little to the left. He’s a goddamn magical construct but that doesn’t stop her from sinking her fingers into his fluff and hugging him to her chest. She only allows herself a moment of weakness before she sets the cat down into her lap. He looks up at her with mournful blue eyes, almost the same shade as Caleb’s.

Caleb is watching her, too. “We are no good to anyone if we are exhausted,” he offers.

“I know.”

“You want to fight. I do understand that. You are feeling… Powerless?”

Beau gives them an incredulous look. The lump in her throat is back. Bang on the fucking money. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.” 

He shrugs. “What was that you said to me again, this afternoon? About my sadomasochistic tendencies?” He asks, not without humor.

“Okay, okay, whatever.”

“I just want to help,” he says.

“I know. But I came here to help you.” And a fine job she’s done of that, hasn’t she?

“Well,” he says, slowly standing up, “unless you have a soap that is particularly good at getting blood out of clothes, I don’t think there is much else for you to do but talk. And I don’t know that I am ready to talk, tonight. Today was… Today was a lot.”

With that, he turns his back to her and pulls off his bloodied shirt. She watches quietly as he sponges down his chest and pulls on a spare shirt. She thinks maybe they should start force-feeding him to put some meat on to those bones. Or, perhaps he should join Fjord in her little workout class.

She suggests it. He laughs.

Frumpkin sits in her lap and purrs. She brushes her thumbs along the delicate bones of his face before gently putting him back onto the ground.

“Guess I’ll let you go to bed, then,” she says, a little gruffly. Her own limbs feel heavy enough to drag her down if she let them. She needs some rest, badly.

Caleb nods and smiles faintly. She’s not sure how the fuck he manages that, after today. She pushes herself up to her feet and puts her hand on the door handle when he speaks again.

“Beauregard,” he says. “Thank you. For checking on me.”

Beau scrunches up a smile of her own. “Us Empire kids got to stick together, right?”

“Right.”

She sighs. “For what it’s worth, though? You only spoke to the scourger for a few minutes, and she never used to be your friend. So maybe, if you have more time and Jessie and Caduceus help you out… There’s still something you can do for your friends. And next time,” she hesitates. “Next time I’ll be right next to you so you don’t get stabbed again.”

Caleb lifts his eyebrows. “You know, what with how often I get stabbed I’m not sure anyone can promise that. But…” He smiles again. “Thank you. I’ll be at your side too, in Zadash.”

Beau jerks her head in an awkward nod. Despite everything, she feels a little bit better than before. “Come and get some tea in a moment. I’m pretty sure Nott wants to ask if she can sleep in your room again,” she finally says. With that, she opens the door and leaves.

(Nott streaks past her a moment later, bearing two cups of tea, and is not seen again the rest of the night. Beau spends the evening with her friends, comfortable in the knowledge that when they see Yasha again, she will not be alone.)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh maybe I'll talk about it  
Maybe I'll talk about it  
I can just talk about it  
(I can just talk about it)  
I'll never talk about it  
(I'll never talk about it)  
No, I can not talk about it
> 
> Dodie, 'Burned Out'.
> 
> EDIT 10/12/19: Changed the summary to reflect the reciprocal nature of their exchange.
> 
> Wouldn't it be nice if Caleb had mentioned the whole 'Trent wants to finish what he started' thing? Gosh. COMMUNICATION SKILLS. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed this!


End file.
